The Princess and the Almost-Prince
by vaderloins
Summary: She was a princess engaged to a real prince but in love with another who wasn't quite royalty. (Alternate Universe - Royal - Anidala - may be expanded upon with time)


**The Princess and the Almost-Prince**

He wasn't a _bad_ man, of that Padmé was nearly certain, though their encounters had been brief at best. He wasn't exactly...appealing either however. But he wasn't a _bad_ man for certain.

He seemed level-headed enough, and determined, and most of all devoted already to his future queen.

There are worse men to be betrothed too, she thinks, and she knows this is true, yet it does little to comfort her as her mind wanders to another.

"To think," one of her handmaidens, Sabé, sung in a sing-song voice as she doted upon her princess' makeup "In only two months time you'll be married!"

Though she was truly happy for her Princess it was clear envy laced Sabé as well.

An older handmaiden, far more reserved and less opinionated than Sabé who was named Saché only smiled kindly at her mistress as she continued to help her dress in her royal garments.

"To a Coruscanti Prince!" Sabé continues to gush as if to herself, "A _handsome_ Coruscanti Prince at that," she added with a nod of approval.

Dormé, the eldest of the small group by several years and who had very kind eyes was oddly the only one to remain emotionless. She didn't offer a word of congratulations nor did she smile sweetly at Padmé in a way of silently reassuring her jittery lady. If anyone could sense Padmé's discontent it would have had to been Dormé. Yet the tall brunette remained stoic and simply did her task at hand which at the moment was placing Padmé's hair in an ornate style.

Padmé sighed softly. A sigh that the others took for a longing for her wedding day. "I am lucky," she said absently with a gentle smile that didn't quiet reach her eyes.

No one seemed to notice.

Sabé giggled girlishly. Saché smiled broadly. Dormé took care to keep her eyes trained on the Princess' dark brown locks.

* * *

><p>"I <em>knew<em> it," Dormé accused. Dormé; Lady of Atillius, Daughter of Marceé, she was known by so many names, Padmé thinks as she follows her down the dark corridor. "This is wrong, mi'lady." Dormé spoke wisely, it was true, but the princess didn't pay her any heed. "So very wrong," the handmaiden continued to talk seemingly to herself. "**So**, _so_, _so_..."

"You are angry," Padmé's voice was low in fear of waking up anyone in the Palace. She noted gravely they had just passed her mother and father's chamber. "At me?"

It was obvious Dormé had to bite back an instinctive "yes" before recalling her place. Choosing her words carefully, "I just believe this isn't the wisest decision you've - _we've_ ever made, Princess."

"I just wish to see a childhood friend, Dormé ," she wonders if she imagines seeing the handmaiden sneer disbelievingly in the darkness.

* * *

><p>They ended up taking the <em>Atillian<em>, the spaceship Dormé's family had gifted their daughter some time ago. They were unseen and unnoticed by all those who slumbered in the Naboo palace and were even able to slip past most of the guards that stood watch in less extravagant Tatooine kingdom castle.

"You didn't have to come," Anakin, the not-quite-prince spoke honestly to the object of his secret affections as he rose to greet her.

Padmé offered him a small smile as she entered the reading room he had holed up in since she had sent word to him she would be coming.

Outside the doors Dormé stood guard, no doubt sticking out like a sore thumb. A Nubian flower in a desert garden...

The princess didn't let her thoughts linger on the older handmaiden who she sure was getting more sour by the moment. Instead she focused her attention on Anakin Skywalker. Step-son of King Qui-Gon Jinn. Royalty yet not. Who lived like a Prince but as it stood currently would inherit not a thing to his name unless his step-brother, Obi-Wan willed it upon his ascension to the throne. Had things been different, had Anakin been born a _proper_ Prince and not a child born out of wedlock to a woman who was just lucky enough to marry a King, maybe then things could have been different. Maybe then his name would have been brought up as a possible suitor for the Naboo Princess.

But as it was Anakin was no more than a well off bastard born who lived in a castle. He was a slave to his blood and to his name, much as she was to her people and her parent's wishes.

"I know," Padmé acknowledged. "But I wanted to. We've been friends for so long - best friends, I thought it only fitting I see you to tell you the news, Ani."

Ignoring the '_news_' part deftly, "Best friends?" the near-prince said, almost teasingly, "I would have thought for sure that title would be held by one of your handmaidens. The one with the scrunched up face, perhaps?"

Smiling despite her disapproval both at him and herself for knowing exactly which attendant he was referring to, "My handmaidens are my friends, good friends, best friends, but what you and I have is different. It always has been since we were children, you know this."

_It must be different for me to risk so much to come and see you,_ she thinks.

"Different?"

Refusing to answer his unasked question she got her mind back on the task at hand. Leaning up against the wall in a very un-lady like fashion that her mother would surely disapprove of, "I have something to tell you, Anakin," her face had grown almost stern with resolve. She would get through this. She would. She would. She wou -

"Yes, I know," he didn't bother looking up. The marble floor suddenly seemed very interesting to him.

"You...know?" Padmé repeated perplexed. "How do you - "

"You aren't the only one with ears throughout the galaxy, _Angel_." He smiled sadly before elaborating, "Qui-Gon got the news earlier in the evening."

"Ah...yes," she recovered quickly, purposely ignoring his term of endearment, "Well, I thought I should tell you. Due to our Planet's recent hostility among one another I'm afraid I know you cannot attend the ceremony but the offer still stands because you are my dearest - "

"Do you love him?" his voice cuts through her well prepared speech and leaves her sppechless for a moment.

Regaining herself fairly quickly as she was always trained to, well, as quickly as possible, "I barely know him." Her voice is hardly above a whisper. And it is the truth, she hardly knows Clovis. She will one day, but not today.

"I didn't ask you that." She sense Anakin fighting the urge to roll his eyes. "Do you want to marry him?" the young man asked. His eyes blue eyes hard and scorching into her, searching her for something.

"My parents want - "

"I don't care what the _King_ or _Queen_ wants," Anakin cut in, rather rudely, if she were to think about it. And she really didn't like the way he regarded her parents in such a belittling fashion.

Forgetting her conflicting feelings for a moment, "What is that supposed to mean?" she countered. Her eyes narrowing. "Why did you speak of my parents with such contempt in your voice? They have been nothing but kind to you, Anakin, since you were but a small boy."

"Is this before or after they put embargo on my father's kingdom?"

Padmé felt her temper rise more and more with each second. She removed herself from her relaxed position leaning up against the wall and walked closer the object of her contempt and adoration. "Their grudge is with Jinn's politics and his people's greediness, not you."

"It just as well be against me then," Anakin said, probably more loudly than he meant to. Speaking ill of anything relating to Qui-Gon was often a bad idea. The man, the King had taken him and his mother in from poverty and given them everything. Bathed them in the best the desert planet had to offer. He'd been a father when Anakin had none.

Padmé realized her mistake but was far too stubborn and in too foul of a mood to apologize so easily.

"Coming here was a mistake, clearly," Padmé muttered. With that the Nubian Princess seemed almost content to leave the not-quite-a-prince to wallow in his own feelings.

If only he hadn't opened his mouth again.

"It's not the biggest you'll make in your life."

Turning on him once again, "What does that mean?"

Anakin shrugged, casually almost. As if he didn't care. Only his eyes betrayed his true feelings. His bright blue eyes that Padmé could always read so clearly, even now when he attempted to shroud them behind indifference. "I mean exactly what I said. That coming here will rank low on your list of mistakes by the time you marry the Prince."

He was baiting her. She knew this, she was far from dumb. Try as she might she couldn't will herself to ignore his attempt to get a rise out of her however. "He's _isn't_ a bad man," she scolded.

"He's manipulative," he fired back, as if he knew something about Clovis she didn't, which very well could have been the case.

"He's determined."

"He's arrogant."

"And you're not?" She quips before adding, "He's devoted to me already."

"He's obsessive already."

"And why do you care?" Padmé near hissed.

"Because, believe it or not, I **do** care about you." The blond responded, his attempt at a chilly demure still there despite his warm words. He wasn't about to let this go and neither was she, though her resolve did lessen a bit. The direction this conversation was steering was slowly making her feel uneasy.

Trying to take back control of the conversation. "You don't need to worry about me. My parents- "

"The King and Queen would have you married off to become some brood mare to produce future heirs only so their Kingdom could stay prosperous."

Padmé scowled, refusing to acknowledge any truth in this statement. Her parents were kind and loving. Yes they were intensely politically minded, but her well-being was far more important that anything, she told herself. "Don't speak as if you know my mother or father better than I." Pausing, "They love me."

"But they love their Kingdom as well."

"As should any monarch," Padmé raised her chin high, giving off her best regal air that often came so naturally. "Can you say differently? Can you say that if you were fortunate enough to inherit the throne that you won't marry your future daughter off to the best match for the security of your kingdom?"

"Yes, I can say differently," he says, and for some reason she knows he is telling the truth. Padmé suddenly feels envy for that unborn daughter of his. And for the woman to carry her.

Still, realizing they were getting nowhere fast, "Then you will have a very lucky daughter one day," she says as she reaches out to open the door and tell Dormé she was ready to return home, but he is on her in an instant and in between herself and the large door.

"Anakin. _Move_." She speaks fiercely, sternly. A queen's threat in her voice, but she does not look at him because she knows if she does certain feelings will arise that she had so far been keeping in very, very close check rather successfully.

"Why?" he asks, almost like a child. She can tell he is nearly pouting much like one as well. If she weren't in such a bad, and vulnerable mood she may have laughed.

"Because you are in my way," she says never once looking up at him. "And you are making me uncomfortable."

"Why am I making you uncomfortable?"

She suppresses a shiver that threatens to shake her from her very core.

When she doesn't respond, he continues, his voice low and knowing. "You don't have to marry him."

"_Don't_," she pathetically pleads, her eyes now locked on his boots and her confidence slowly waning.

"You don't."

"I have to," she says with a sigh evident in her voice. Only now beginning to admit a feeling she knew she felt since she was but a girl and he a boy, back when their kingdoms were at peace. "A princess always listens to her parents." Padmé recites dutifully like a good daughter.

Anakin moves away from her. No longer is he hovering over her and she is both relieved and saddened by the loss of his warmth so very close to her, closer than he has been in years. "That is true," he agrees, and for some reason Padmé feels tears well in her eyes, threatening to spill forth.

If he is giving up then it truly is over. A part of her deep down wished he would continued to stall. Continued to play his games.

She nods, solemnly, resigning herself to her now written in stone fate.

"But," he continues on unexpectedly, "A wife needn't listen to anyone but her heart."

Padmé pauses. She had stopped thinking along with breathing. When her mind finally started back up again after what seemed like years later she asks, "A wife?" as it is all she could manage to say. She knew why he had chosen that word over a queen, as she would be if she married Clovis. If she married Clovis she'd be a Queen. If she married anyone else she'd be no more than a wife.

"_My_ wife."

"I..._we_...**can't**." Padmé shakes her head. "We can't do this. We can't fall in love, Ani. Don't ask this of me. We **can't**."

"Its already too late, I think..."

And Padmé knew his words were so very true. For once in her life, she didn't think of her mother or her father or of her handmaidens or of her people. She didn't think of her role as Princess. She thought of herself as Padmé.

When he kissed her for the first time she instantly returned the kiss and took the initiative to deepen the steadily growing more passionate kiss.

She felt as if she were falling, and she'd never had been happier.

* * *

><p>"You are flushed." Dormé noted knowingly as she fought a glare from appearing on her face while she regarded her mistress. She was leading the two of them through the Nubian Gardens, back towards the Princess' chamber. "<em>Still<em>."

"Yes, well, Tatooine's atmosphere and all." Padmé lied.

Stopping in her tracks Dormé turned to stare at the Princess. Her soft hazel eyes a bit harder than she remembered only a little while ago. "Don't do anything reckless, Princess Padmé. You have a future. Here. I know you may have feelings for...but that's, that's just not how things work."

Dormé, a Lady of nobility in her own right, her best friend, always did bring reality crashing down around her. Brushing her brown locks behind her ear with a delicate hand she let out a sigh. Part of her agreed with Dormé, but another part, a stronger part knew that she was wrong. Padmé had waited too long, denied herself too long, to give up on whatever it was wonderful that she had found with Anakin so unexpectedly.

"I -"

"Come mi'lady." Dormé silenced her effectively and grabbed her other hand and led her through the gardens. They did not speak again until they were at the princess' door.

With ease Dormé opened the grand doors making sure they made not a squeak before waiting to see Padmé inside.

"Oh, and Princess," she called out quietly before the door shut.

"Yes?"

Grabbing the Padmé's' left hand, "You...have a beautiful but primitive band on your finger, but best not wear it out tomorrow or your mother will surely notice and be asking questions."

"Dormé ...please do not - "

"Of course I won't." Dormé looked affronted at the accusation that was left unsaid. "No matter what you do, or how many mistakes you choose to make with your life I will be there mi'lady, until the bitter end."

"You always were my favorite." Padmé smiled genuinely at the tall woman who let out an heavy sigh in return. "Tomorrow, under the watchful eye of the Goddesses, will you take me to wed him so that our marriage can be realized?"

Dormé hesitated for a moment, but soon enough she nodded causing Padmé to beam up at her. Kissing her friend on the cheek, "Thank you, Dor."


End file.
